Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

A red cardinal got trapped In a green arboretum Among the lacy fern And blush cacti flowers It flew in a desperation Unique to all animals Who can sense death Then the red cardinal spied A man-made creek With fattened koi A precarious bridge And a cheap Grecian statue So it drank and made  Its prison into a home It learned it can live Off of tiny tangerines Produced in the Asian pavilion And ripened crab apples From North America Soon the cardinal forgot That there was a world it once knew One with sunlight  Dewy earth worms Domestic cats on the prowl The dome glass walls Became its home Is there even a life worth living Outside of them?

i. Moss If only I could become one with the earth. I would lay down on the sweet scented grass. I would sink so low, into the moss, dried leaves, and crushed up Coke cans. I would be a part of the undergrowth itself, with the ants crawling into my shirt sleeves. I would be back home. ii. Toads There's something in the way that he looks at me. I wouldn't call it butterflies. They are more like giant toads, gurgling with the pace of my heartbeat. I feel the slime clogging up my throat, and I'm unable to speak. This is real love. iv. Birds From afar, white swans look like angels, with their feathery wings and bright beaks. Up close, they look like plain geese, with thick, slimy tongues. They make the most awful sounds, and they peck the mallards. I'll never trust beauty again. iii. Rodents My kindergarten used to have a class pet. A small white bunny. My teacher got it for us so we could learn how to respect and appreciate nature. The boys in my clas...

A duck sat by a river looking at its reflection Wondering, where will I go? What do I do? When I die one day will anyone remember me? Will I catch a bite tomorrow? Will the nice ladies from down the block come in their bright sundresses and feed me stale bread crumbs while gossiping about other women? Why am I a mallard? Why can't I have been a beautiful swan, elegant and to be envied, instead? Why must I make such hoarse, pathetic sounds? Quack! Quack! Quack! Putting aside all that, why can't I have been born a male duck instead? With their striking green plumage, the purple glitter on their wings, and their mustard yellow beaks? Why must I be a little brown critter? I look like a sad mop! Where will I be five years from now? Ten? Will I have ducklings, or will I be long digested in a fox's stomach by then? What rivers will I swim in, and which ones will I never have the chance to visit? On what day will I swim my final swim? So many things going through the...

Why did I let the bluebirds die, For chirping at my sill? Why didn’t I sob instead? Why did it feel sweeter to kill? They sit and chirp and sing all day, Resting petals at my door. Pink and creamy ivory bouquets, That I leave to rot right on the floor. Scowling in front of the mirror at dawn, I pace ‘til I dull the rug in my room. While the bluebirds plague me with their voice, And pity me as I succumb to my gloom. I am exactly who I don’t want to be, The thought tickles me in the spine. A spot of blush and a glass of venom, I thought they would make me divine! The birds, they’ve gone, I miss them so, They tasted my fear and flew. Only the carcass of remorse remains, Reminding me of you.

I am just a bird with nowhere to fly Wings clipped together till the day that I die My beak is taped shut and my feet are so sore If I could melt, I would not be afraid anymore My heart was sold, and bought by oily-faced men And I know I will not be able to see my mother again They treat me like an animal, although I am free They split open my scars as if I don’t bleed Coughing and smiling with cigarettes in their cheek They pound me even though they know I am weak I wish I could migrate with the others- in the clouds I wish I could do something to make myself proud! But they’ve beat me- they’ve ruined me, now I can’t fly I am merely a bird waiting to die

Ravens roost in the crevices of my rib cage No, not only do they torment flabby pieces of skin They peck away at me from inside out Their needle sharp beaks pinning delicate human characteristics in vain Long, slender yet deadly wings as black as soot and as enraged as Poseidon’s sea Those wings that cannot leave me be…

I came back home crying to my mother one day She asked me why my eyes were so sore But how could I speak when my lips were deserted? For they hurt from not being kissed anymore Each breath was a mission I was not willing to take A boulder heaved down on my bones Everything was so difficult; all emotions deployed It felt so familiar to be safely alone My mother looked at me solemnly and told me, “Adolescence is by far the most complex stage At times you’re ecstatic, for you’ve succeeded! But unfortunately, most times you fail at this age” “Uncertainty is an irritating rash That seems to linger, unable to heal Curiosity is juvenile, yet stabs your core ‘Till you question if heaven is real” I pondered on this and I dreamt that night I dreamt about hawks circling me ‘round They gracefully sliced the air above me Without a squawk nor vigorous sound The thoughts poured like an oil spill into the sea… Who am I? Who will I be? What is the future holding for me? The ...

On a solitary tree branch, at the top of the hill A mama bird has found herself home She tends for her egg through darkness and light Protecting her precious from starving alone The egg has hatched, feeble young beak Desperately pricks for a breath of pure air Mama bird teaches the young one to fly Oh tell me, why wasn't papa bird there? In fact, where has papa bird been all this while? Left poor mama bird handling life on her own She raised the youngster to be fearless and bold She nurtured it until it had grown No troubles arise, the youngster is free He has been brought up well and feels good Though deep in the roots of this bird's tender heart Are emotions of betrayal, being misunderstood No, this sapling will not ever be the same He is not normal, as from others, he has learned Penetrating through crusts of hatred and remorse All he ever wished for was to hug papa bird